One Step from a Heart Ache
by walkingonsunshine96
Summary: I knew there were dangerous people in New York, but I never realised some of them were crazy. Right after Rachel gets on the train, she tries to enjoy her life, but after one incedent, Rachel is pushed into a life that she had never imagined.
1. Chapter 1

I hate whoever invented the answering machine. I hate them so much I want to take my phone and shove it down his throat and see how he feels about his invention now. I hate that even after 3 weeks of ignoring them; they still haven't gotten the hint.

No, I don't want to talk to you. No I don't care if you're getting annoyed and no you don't understand. How could you? Have you ever been betrayed by everyone you cared about. Your friends, your family, your love? How can you possibly understand what I am going through? The betrayal is hard enough to handle, but then there is sadness, the anger, the confusion, the hurt and those times, those amazing times where you feel nothing at all. It's like the world has stopped and you can just sit and look at the stars. All the horrible feelings rushing through you, continuously changing, gone. But every time I reach that emotionless state, the beep of the answering machine goes off, pulling me away from my happy place of nothingness.

The message is played. It's always that same. It's always from the same people, saying the same things. Were worried, were sorry, we understand how you feel. On what planet do you know how I feel? You did this to me. You sent me here, you thought you knew what I wanted, but you're wrong. This isn't what I wanted. Maybe a year ago yes, but now, there are more important things.

My dream, what I wanted, was to be here, in New York, but with Finn and Kurt. To be living is some shoebox apartment that was crowded and far away from everything. That we would have fights but makeup and spend our evenings out trying any street vendor style food we could find, or curled up watching some crappy TV show on one of our 3 channels. It may have been hard and frustrating, but it was what I dreamt about. Not this. I'm alone, in my dorm.

There's nothing special about it. It's small, with 2 single beds, one waiting to be occupied, a small TV, a bathroom and in the corner is that constantly beeping 10 year old phone. Telling me I have 5 new messages, 6 new messages, 12 new messages. When will people realise I'm not going to pick up! What will I have to do to stop hearing the pleas from my friends to pick up the phone; my dad's telling me their worried about me. Do I have to throw it across the room and watch with a smile as it crashed against the wall and pieces fly around the room like some slow motion dramatic scene? I've gotten close, but there is only one thing that stops me.

Him.

The man who promised me he would never leave me and sealed that promise with an engagement ring. The man who made me believe that we were going to get married but drove me to the train station to go on my merry way. The man who sat across from me in that car and told me that he was setting me free. That we needed to let go. That it was up to fate now. The man who opened my door and handed me my suitcase. Who walked me up those stairs to my platform. Who organised for everyone to be there to watch as they finally got rid of Rachel Barbara Berry.

They faked those smiles, and pretended to shed a tear while all the while they were waiting. Waiting for me to leave and never come back. And as he ran with the train, I thought that maybe just maybe he realised he didn't want to do this, he wanted me to stay.

But then, he stopped.

He stopped running and just stared. And that was it. That was him giving up. That was him "setting me free". That was him letting go. This man who claimed to love me, who wanted to marry me, would rather die in a war than be with me in New York.

Well, I'm not going to bother them anymore. I'm not going to give them any relief of their guilt by answering their calls and telling them I'm fine just so they can feel better about themselves. They wanted me here and here I am. I'm not happy about it but I'm here. So you can call all you want but I'm not picking up. And if I ever meet the man who invented the answering machine, I'm throwing mine at him.


	2. Chapter 2

If Kurt saw me now. He would kill me. Gone are the days of argyle and knee socks, animal jumpers and leg warmers and welcome my new favourite colour. Black. I love black. It represents me.

The new me.

All my bitterness, hatred and my favourite emotion anger. I don't cry anymore. The new me doesn't do tears. The new me, is full of hate. Hate for my friends, family, him. Those who led me along. It's their fault I'm like this. So bitter that I could make lemon's jealous.

So what if I cut my hair short, or that I have a nose piercing, or perhaps my new obsession with tattoos has led to many trips, and hundreds of dollars. It's the new me, the new me who has friends. Sure, we may spend our time walking around, trying to get into bars, or frighten the other kids who go to NYADA, it's who we are. Each and every one of us have been through some betrayal, so what better way than to come together, and take our anger out on all the happy carefree people who have never been hurt like us.

So it's been 2 months since I arrived here, 1 month since I started NYADA and 3 days since someone has tried to call me.

Its not long, but its progress.

So I changed my look, I'm still me, somewhere deep down. I still appreciate the drama of life, but to be honest, there no longer is any. I realised I have fallen into a pattern. Wake up, go to class, go to some bar until who knows when, get completely wasted, and wake up back in my dorm with a severe hangover and late to my first class. I'll admit it is hard to wake up every morning knowing he isn't going to be there. That he isn't going to be there for me anymore. That's where the hangovers come in handy, I'm so distracted by the throbbing in my head, I don't have time to feel the pain in my heart.

I still feel like I'm irrelevant longer have a purpose in his life and I'm no longer important to him. Maybe I never was. Maybe he led me on just so that when he dumped me he knew that it would sting a little more. I know this isn't true, but sometimes I think that maybe they all lead me on. That he pretended.

That they all pretended.

I woke up that morning to someone relentlessly banging on my door. I looked over to my clock to see what time it is. 12:30pm. Way too early for a Saturday. I then realise my head is throbbing. I slowly trudge over to the mirror to get a look at myself. My hair is in a big knotty mess, my eyeliner has smudged under my eyes, and my red lipstick is half way up my face. What the hell did I do last night? I then remember the knocking at the door, probably my best friend Cassie, on her way over with her magical hangover cure.

"Give me a second!" I shout, and pull on some dirty ripped jeans and a black singlet. I walk over to the still knocking door, pull it open and shout "God Cassie, calm your tits." But standing in front of me is not Cassie, but a very angry looking Latina, and Blonde.

"What are you doing here?" I growl at them.

"Hello to you to." Says Santana

"I repeat, what are you doing here?" I reply

"Well since you seem to be incapable of using a phone, we decided to pop in and speak to you directly." Quinn says.

"Well obviously you two are incapable of getting the message, I don't WANT to talk to you." I reply mimicking Quinn's tone.

"Well it looks like you don't have a choice, so move your little diva ass out of ma way before I make you." Santana says, clearly unimpressed with being kept waiting so long.

She shoves past me and walks into the room. After doing a once over of the mess on the floor, my unmade bed, and the empty bottles lying around she spins and looks at me.

"What the hell is going on Rachel?"

"I don't know what you mean?"

"Look we expected you to be mopey, but not turn out like this." Quinn says as she gestures to me.

"You're going to have to be more precise with what you mean."

"You're Rachel Berry, you don't drink, or smoke, or have an unclean room. You don't wear jeans and you never wear black." Says Santana

"And is that a tattoo on your wrist?" Quinn yells.

"Correction, I WAS Rachel Berry, I DIDN'T drink or smoke and I ALWAYS have an unclean room. I ALWAYS wear jeans and my FAVOURITE COLOUR is black. Now that that's sorted will you get out of my room and please don't return." I say as I push them to the door.

"What happened Rach?" Santana asks with almost a hint of compassion in her voice.

"I found out that the world is a bitch, and betrayal is everywhere." I say coldly before slamming the door.

I think I sat in the corner of my room for a good two hours before the tears came. I tried so hard to keep them away, but seeing Santana and Quinn brought back so much. All the feelings of sadness came back. How dare they show their face after what they did to me? How dare they come back and make me feel everything I had tried so hard to push away. Who did they think they were? They had no right. Wasn't it enough to push me away that they had to come and rub it in my face, here, in New York, just after I had stopped being so hopeless.

I decided that what I needed was a night out. I reached for my cell and called Cassie.

"What you want loser." Cassie smirks through the phone at me.

"Something to forget today even happened." I reply"

"I know just the place, meet me outside in 20." She replies before hanging up.

**A/N: Hey guys, that's the second chapter. Sneak Peak for next chapter: we meet the crazy guy. **

**Keep reading and reviewing your all awesome **


	3. Chapter 3

I have never been to this bar before.

The lights are low, smoke is clogging the air, making it hard for me to breathe and the stench of alcohol is so strong my eyes start to sting. I sit on the bar stool facing the drunk, dancing crowd of people, searching for Cassie. We have been here for 10 minutes and I have already lost her. Cassie is more of a party girl than I am. While she likes to dance with the crowd, I like to sit and watch. I find it extremely interesting watching people go through the different stages of drunkenness.

Stage one: The tipsy drunk. Usually collage girls who are having their first drink, or have been pressured into one drink to many. This stage is also filled with girls pretending to be drunk even though the only thing they have been drinking that night is diet cola.

Then there is Stage 2: Mostly guys who have dumb competitions on who can drink the most. These usually end up in bar fights and the police being called.

Then there is the final stage. The "I'm so wasted I can't feel my legs." I have been at this stage a few times.

Mostly when I first met Cassie.

I'm disrupted by my thoughts by a chair flying straight past my head and smashing into the shelves of glasses behind me. Great, some dumbass boys are having a bar fight, that means it's my queue to leave. On my way trying to exit the bar as quickly as I could I do a quick scan for Cassie. I decide she has probably already left when the bar fight started.

Leaving the bar behind me I am greeted by fresh air. I take in a deep breath of fresh air, desperate to clear my lungs of all the smoke they inhaled in the bar.

I walk down the unfamiliar streets staring at the sky and taking in the calming sounds of the wind. The further I walk the yelling and shouting from the bar fades until I can no longer hear it. The sounds of police sirens come and go quickly, meaning I made it out of the bar just in time.

The low lit paths are hard to see. I walk past countless houses. Mostly falling apart, paint fading or overgrown with vines and weeds. I don't like this area. I feel unsafe. I quicken my step desperate to get home faster. The once peaceful quiet is now an eerie silence; the wind is whipping through my hair and sending shivers up my spine. The bright lights of the street up ahead become closer and closer.

I'm almost there.

As I'm passing the last few houses, something grabs my arm. I scream only to have my mouth covered by a rough hand. I try to tug my arm away, but the grip tightens.

The last thing I remember is being pulled into a dark alleyway.

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's so short, but I needed to get the introduction finished. Just a little notice, this is going to be more of a supernatural story, but I can tell you it's going to be a little different to what you may expect. Also it may be a while before you see the return of Finn. :)  
**

**Keep Reviewing, Your all Awesome! **


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